Gemma Halliday - Undercover In High Heels

Oh, hell! I froze. What, what, what? I chewed my lip again, sure that panic was written all over my face.

Latifah glanced down. I think I heard her stifle a snicker. “Those your shoes?”

I looked down at my pink heels. “Yes, why?”

No disguising the snicker this time. “Nothin’.”

“Yeah, I know they clash with the red jacket.”

“Uh-huh. Well, maybe you wanna put them on the belt, there, honey. You know…take ’em off. Take ’em all off.” She snorted again and glanced at Billy. He was grinning, too.

“Uh…o-kay.” I slipped my shoes off and threw them into a plastic tub to ride through the machine.

I stepped back through again.

Silence. Blessed silence!

I gave Latifah a little wave, keeping my head low, and grabbed my belongings, just barely resisting the urge to sprint through the lot.

Step one accomplished.

On to phase two.

Ten minutes later I was slinking around the corner of stage 6G, carefully watching for any sign of a) Stein-man (lest he draft me for wardrobe duty), b) Ramirez (lest he notice me on wardrobe duty and slap a pair of handcuffs on me), or c) Dana (whom I desperately needed to get to before either a or b happened).

I entered the warehouse, keeping close to the walls and hoping I blended into the background as I slunk toward the soundstage. I picked my way over wires and ropes duct taped to the ground, thinking inconspicuous thoughts as I passed the Craft services area. Luckily, no one tried to stop me, though I did notice a couple of PAs looking at my shoes as I scuttled past. I think one even snickered, “Hot stuff, ” as I walked by. Okay, now I was starting to get a little self-conscious. Yes, they clash. I get it!

I was almost to the soundstage when a familiar voice hailed me from the wings.

“Hey, Maddie.”

I had a mini heart attack, spinning around so fast I feared whiplash. I breathed a sigh of relief when I saw who it was.

“Hi, Ricky.”

“What are you doing here? That big cop said you weren’t allowed on the set anymore.”

I cringed. Oh yeah, handcuffs were definitely in my future.

“I’m just here to see Dana. Know where she is?”

“Sure. She’s blocking out the next scene. Ashley and Chad are having makeup sex today. Apparently he doesn’t care who the baby’s daddy is after all.”

The wonders of television.

“Thanks, ” I said, turning to go.

“Hey, did that woman ever find you?” Ricky called.

I paused. “What woman?”

“There was this woman looking for you earlier. She didn’t leave her name but she had, like, really long black hair. And she seemed a little high-strung.”

Oh. Crap.

Isabel.

“She was here?” I squeaked out, sounding way too much like Minnie Mouse for my liking. I had no idea how she got onto the lot, but knowing she was anywhere in the vicinity of my person made my skin instantly break out in goose bumps.

Ricky nodded. “Yeah. Hey, you okay? You look kinda pale.”

I gulped down a dry lump in my throat. “Yeah, sure, fine. When was she here? What did she say?”

Ricky scrunched up his face as if he were thinking really hard. “Um, it was earlier this morning, right after I got in. I told her I wasn’t sure you’d be here, but she just said she’d hang around and ‘catch up to you.’ ”

Oh boy.

I mentally added one more name to the list of people whom I so did not want to run into today. In fact, I moved her name right up to the tippy-top of the list. I debated calling Ramirez and telling him that Isabel was lurking somewhere on studio property. But that would mean telling him I was lurking on studio property, and me in the back of his squad car wasn’t going to help Dana any.

So, instead I mumbled, “Thanks, ” to Ricky and made a beeline for the soundstage.

I spotted Dana right away. She was lying in Ashley Culver’s bed, dressed in a peach-colored tube top and tight briefs that almost exactly matched her skin tone. Unless you squinted, it looked like she was in the buff. Which, it seemed, was the idea, as Steinman directed her though a series of seductive poses, all the while shouting about the white balance and backlighting.

Long extensions had been added to her hair, so that Ashley’s curly blonde locks now fell over Dana’s shoulders. Her makeup was done to perfectly match Mia’s skin tone, and I think she was even wearing green contacts. The dread I’d been feeling all morning kicked up a notch. Even I might have mistaken Dana for Mia.

Then again, it was perfect for what I was planning.

I waited behind an unused camera crane while Steinman blocked out the rest of the scene, Dana beaming and making kissy-faces at the camera the entire time. Never mind that the cameras weren’t on; Dana was milking her fifteen minutes for all it was worth.

Finally Steinman signaled one of the PAs in a headset to go get Mia for the real deal.

Dana slipped on a pair of flip-flops and a robe before stepping off the soundstage. I grabbed her arm almost immediately, dragging her into the shadows.

“What the-” she started.

I did an instant shushing motion, holding an index finger up to my lips.

“Maddie!” she whispered. “What are you doing here?” She scrunched up her nose. “And what’s with the hair?” she asked, fingering my newly brown tresses.

“It’s a disguise.”

“Totally good idea, ” she said, nodding sagely. “ ’Cause if Ramirez catches you here, you’re toast.”

“You’ve seen him?” There was Minnie Mouse again.

Dana nodded. “Yeah, and I’m pretty sure he used the words arrest and blonde in the same sentence. He gave me the total third degree about where you were. I told him that you were at your mom’s, and I think he’s on his way over there now.”

I cringed as an image of Ramirez interrogating Mom popped into my head. Though I wasn’t sure which one I felt sorrier for.

On the upside, having Ramirez out of the way for a couple of hours made things that much easier.

“Listen, I’ve got a plan, ” I said, dragging Dana behind the crane as a pair of grips walked by. I quickly filled her in on the idea that had been cooking in the back of my head all morning. And, yes, I’ll admit it was just a wee bit on the “harebrained” side, but that didn’t mean it wouldn’t work.

All I needed to implement it was one more person.

Mia.

I realized that Mia was the key to all of this and the only person on the set whom I hadn’t talked to yet. And unfortunately, I needed her help if we were going to pull this off. I know Mia wasn’t exactly known around the set as the helpful type, but I had a feeling that if anyone was eager to get rid of Mr. Poisoned Pen, it was her.

Dana and I watched from the wings while Mia and Ricky wiggled under the sheets of Ashley’s bed, pausing every few minutes for Mia to complain about Ricky’s hands skimming inappropriate places or the camera not zooming in on her good side. Finally Steinman was satisfied (or fed up) and yelled, “Scene, ” breaking for lunch. Poor Ricky looked infinitely relieved.

Dana and I gave Mia a three-count head start to her trailer before slipping out the back.

I was happy to see that Ramirez was still nowhere in sight (thank you, Mom!) as we tippy-toed between the corrugated-metal trailers, passing Ricky’s, Blake’s, and the one marked TALENT before coming to Mia’s. Dana rapped two knuckles on the metal door.

“Yes?” came the sharp reply from inside.

“Wardrobe, ” I called.

“Oh for God’s sake, ” I heard her respond, her voice growing louder as she moved toward the door. “We just finished the last scene.” The door popped open and Mia stood glaring at me. She was wrapped up in a red silk robe that contrasted sharply with her pale skin. Her lips were painted red to match, as if lipstick were the first thing she’d thought of putting on when she returned to her trailer. Her feet were bare, and her enviable blonde curls framed a face that was etched in a deep scowl.